


Whispered Praises and a Soft Touch

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Praise Kink, Suggestive Themes, Tattoo Artist Derek Hale, Tattooed Derek Hale, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles is super nervous about getting a tattoo and it doesn’t help that his tattoo artist is an incredibly gorgeous man called Derek.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 285
Collections: 12 Days of Kink-mas, Sterek Goodness





	Whispered Praises and a Soft Touch

**Author's Note:**

> 12 Days of Kink-mas – Day 9 (20th December): Praise Kink

Stiles walked up to the front door of the tattoo studio, looking at the sign that hung on the glass panel that read ‘OPEN’.

He drew in a deep breath, letting the rush of cool air fill his lungs smother out the burning embers of anxiety that had settled in his chest. He let the tension in his body subside, his shoulders dropping as he pushed open the studio door.

A small bell chimed and a man stepped around the corner. He stepped in, closing the door behind him.

The sound of footsteps filled the space as a man came down from upstairs.

He was handsome, with thick black hair and a short, neat beard that cast a soft shadow across his jaw. His eyes were pale aventurine, the colour of his irises shifting in the light; from hazel to jade green, to a shade of light blue. He was dressed in a grey Henley with long sleeves hat were bunched up around his elbows, leaving his firm forearms bared. There were tattoos across his skin; one arm had the silhouettes of trees on his forearm—pine trees, elm trees, and the silhouettes of spindly trees that had lost their leaves—the roots and the ground faded into dots around his wrist. His other forearm had two roses on the underside of his arm, the delicate petals tattooed in black and white. The fine cursive script of names peeked out from beneath the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

A kind smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he met Stiles’ gaze.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm Stiles, I have an appointment," Stiles managed to say around the lump in his throat.

The man nodded.

“I’m Derek. Come on through,” he said, nodding towards the small sectioned-off rooms of the studio.

Stiles followed him, taking in his surroundings. The shop was quite modern, the plastered walls painted a soothing grey with black framed photos of tattoo designs and portraits of past customers—most of them printed in black and white—showcasing the incredible details and fine line work of their tattoos. On the counters were little cacti potted in white or concrete pots.

Derek was quick to get everything ready; showing Stiles a printed copy of the design to check the font and the spelling before transferring it to a stencil.

“You wanted it on your ribs, right?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. He shifted slightly, feeling a little self-conscious.

“You don’t have to take your shirt completely off,” Derek assured him. “You can just pull it up enough that I work.”

Stiles nodded, pulling up the side of his shirt.

"How are you with needles?" Derek asked as he cleaned Stiles' side and positioned the stencil. 

"Honestly? Terrible," Stiles admitted. "But this is something I want; something I need."

"I promise I'll be gentle with you," Derek said with a soft smile. He pressed the stencil to Stiles' skin and pulled it back, leaving the outline from which he was going to work. "How's that?"

Stiles looked up at the mirror on the wall. A small smile crept up the corners of his lips as he looked at it.

The design was somewhat simple, a few lines of script in a solid text with roman numerals at the bottom—a date—positioned on his left side over his ribs.

In one of the stars I shall be living.

In one of them I shall be laughing.

And so it will be as if all the stars

were laughing, when you look at the sky at night

And so you will love to watch all the stars…

You–only you–will have stars that can laugh.

I shall not leave you.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect."

"Alright, let’s get started.”

Stiles nodded as he lay down on the bench.

There was something about this man—something about his glittering eyes and his sweet smile—that just made Stiles feel calm.

Derek started.

Stiles tensed for a moment, exhaling heavily and relaxing. He shut his eyes and felt something press against his skin, a small prick, and then nothing.

"How was that?" Derek asked.

"Was that it?" Stiles replied, stunned. "That didn't hurt at all."

Derek chuckled. "Good."

He set to work and Stiles relaxed, his eyes slowly drifting shut as he felt Derek's fingers brush across his skin.

Time passed quickly as Stiles drifted into a peaceful oblivion, still somehow remaining completely aware of Derek's tender touch, of the warmth of his hands and of his glittering eyes that were focused solely on his work.

“You still with me?” Derek asked, his quiet voice gently shaking Stiles from his wandering thoughts.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied.

“Haven’t passed out yet?” he teased.

“Not yet,” Stiles said with a slight chuckle.

Derek chuckled in return, the deep sound rolling through Stiles’ chest and igniting every nerve.

“I like the quote,” he said, reading the tattoo.

“It’s from _The Little Prince_ ,” Stiles explained. “My mum used to read it to me every night when I was younger.”

“And the date?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ voice went quiet. “That’s the day she died.”

Derek paused for a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said; he didn’t want to admit how much I hurt to say it.

Derek was quiet for a moment.

“2004,” he read. “I lost my family the same year.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, wishing he had more to say.

“Thanks,” Derek said. “I hope this tattoo gives you some kind of closure.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly. “I hope so too.”

They settled back into a comfortable quiet, the only sound was the buzzing of the machine and the even rhythm of Stiles’ breaths.

The needle hit a sensitive spot, a jolt of pain shooting through his body and burning his veins.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to flinch. He let out a measured breath, calming his heart and breathing through it as the pain subsided.

“That’s it. Good boy,” Derek whispered, gently brushing a finger over the sore spot before continuing.

Stiles blinked in shock as a wave of warmth crashed over him, stirring something inside of him. He tried his best to keep his breathing even as his mind began to wander; imagining what it would be like to have Derek whisper those words in his deep voice as he lay with his body pressed against Stiles’. He wandered what it would be like to look up into Derek’s aventurine eyes and hear him say those words as Stiles took his length in his mouth, or to hear him whisper it as he gently stroked Stiles cheek as they lay in the sheets together, breathless and ragged.

The thoughts and images swirled around in his head, making it harder and harder to sit still. But there was something about the firmness of Derek’s hand and his gentle touch that grounded Stiles.

“All done,” Derek said, shaking Stiles from his thoughts.

He gently wiped down Stiles’ side and cleaned up the tattoo, setting everything aside before pushing his stool back.

“Have a look in the mirror if you want.”

Stiles sat up and rose to his feet, stepping over to the mirror and turning slightly to look at the tattoo. The fine black lines stood boldly against his pale skin.

"It's perfect," Stiles said breathlessly. "Thank you."

Derek cleaned up the rest of the tattoo, spread gel over it and wrapped it up. He gave Stiles instructions on how to care for his tattoo.

“You didn’t pass out,” Derek congratulated.

Stiles chuckled, pulling down his shirt.

“Funnily enough, you’re actually one of the best customers that has ever sat for me,” Derek told him.

“You’re kidding,” Stiles scoffed.

“You were,” Derek said.

"I mean it, Derek," Stiles said. "Thank you. I don't know if I'd have ever been able to do this if I didn't have you as my artist.”

Derek smiled.

Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

“Look, this might seem out of line slightly, but I know how hard it is to deal with losing your family, and if you ever want to talk or just want someone to spend time with…” Derek wrote something down on a piece of paper before handing it to Stiles. “Just give me a call. Any time.”

"Thanks," Stiles said, returning Derek’s smile.

“Oh, and for the record, you have nothing to be shy about,” Derek said, eyeing Stiles up and down.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
